Heart of a mom…mouth of a sailor

Part 4 of the “Hot Damn Fire!” story where the L in our luck was replaced with an F.

We rolled up to our new rental house looking like the Clampets with all the stuff from the other rental that people dropped off plus the rental furniture. “Come on kids! Check out our new house for the summer!!” We walked in and stopped dead in our tracks…who in the hell lived here?…the garbage pail kids??!! I hate people. The house was trashed and would’ve sent Mike Rowe running for his momma. There was food on every wall, light fixture, door, ceiling, window, you name it…it had food on it. The kitchen pantry had dried pee all over the walls and floor and the door had what looked like dried vomit all over. The inside and outside of the cabinets were so crusted with food…it was as if someone tripped every night on the way to the dinner table with a bowl full of spaghetti sauce. I threw the kids on the front porch with my mom and I walked back inside and cried like a baby…this is the house where my last baby will learn to crawl and take her first steps, where she will have her 1st birthday party, where my toddlers will have their 3rd and 4th birthday parties…this is the house where I’m supposed to be able to enjoy the summer with my kids and frolic through fields of flowers with vodka. Vodka, dammit! It would’ve been more sanitary for us to sleep in the pile of ashes at our home. I called the realtor and the final say was we already paid the deposit and signed the lease…SUCKERS! Shit. They agreed to send a cleaning crew the next morning. Wait…whaaaaa?…we have to sleep here? Once that sank in, we started touring the rest of the house…like it was haunted…slowly opening doors and looking in…

The cleaning crew came and I guarantee they would’ve took off running if I hadn’t been standing there in dirty clothes, melted flip flops, a baby on my hip, and the look of “HELP ME” wrote all over my face. They got set up…prayed over their mop bucket…put 2 layers of gloves on and went to work. They looked like the Flinstones chiseling away layers of hardened who knows what all day. Tools they used…razor blades, screw drivers, butter knives, car keys, a credit card, broom handle…I’m willing to bet if we had a chainsaw they would’ve used it. I tried to help those sweet ladies as much as possible but the kids were in their way more than anything so I took them out back to play. The backyard was just as bad as the inside, there was stuff strewn everywhere. We were kicking a half deflated soccer ball back and forth…that makes for a fun game by the way. You think it’s headed in the direction you kicked it and BAM…cue the deflated part and that baby will make a hard left. Once I was good and winded (3 minutes later) I stood back to watch them run and play. They love to race each other so I got them side by side, held my imaginary flag…”Ladiiies aaaand gentlemen, are you ready for the matchup of the yeeear?!!!” Once I realized I was announcing a boxing match I quickly said “on your mark, get set, GO!” They took off like the slowest bolts of lightening I’ve ever seen. They were gettin it! OH SHIT!!…BAY???…YOU OK?!…SWEET JESUS, ARE YOUR LEGS BROKEN??!! That kid was gobbled up to her waist in a hole. I decided to walk the yard to check for more holes and see just how much shit was in the grass. I could hear Bayla laughing and see her running around out of the corner of my eye. W…T…F…?! She was running with a pair of rusted scissors in one hand and a corroded battery with a screw sticking out the the end in the other hand. Well…this should be a fun safe summer.

There was a yellowish film all over everything in the house. Wait for it….wait foooor iiiit…METH! Sweet Mother Goose…my kids are now crackheads!

Two cleaning crews later and the surface was barely scratched. It was up to me, the hubs, the cockroaches, and the rats to de-shit this property. The roaches are so big I could put a leash on em and tak them for a walk. The rats? I could mount them like a pony. Giddy up!

Every night after the kids were asleep, I would head out back with a flashlight and pick up all the trash in the yard. When I bare handed a dog turd I got smart and started wearing gloves. Glass…so much broken glass everywhere. Batteries…it’s like it rained batteries. Baggies and tin foil, hundreds of marbles, food wrappers, juice boxes, socks…tons of socks, 2 rusted pick axes, hooks…like the Candyman’s hand, a long screwdriver buried to where it stuck straight up, a shit ton of pencils, metal spoons…I could go on and on. So far, we have filled 8 large trash bags.

The driveway was like walking through a pool of ants. There was gum and candy everywhere as well as gallons of spilled red paint. It looked like the Easter Bunny was murdered right there in our driveway. I scraped the gum and candy up for days, injuring every single one of my fingers. I would be using every muscle I had to get the scraper under the goo…bent over in the weirdest lunge position imaginable with all my blood rushing to my head…when it would come loose and I would fly forward scraping my knuckles across the concrete. My blood only added to the scene. My brother brought over his gas powered pressure washer for me…I’ve only ever used electric. It took me an hour to figure out how to start the damn thing. Alright, ready to go. When I pulled the trigger, that thing blew me all over the place. I was holding on so tight…it was vibrating my entire body. I couldn’t get my arm under control much less get that thing pointed at the ground. Then…my water hose exploded…it blew my freaking water hose apart! Hell! Then…the water spigot blew out the side of the house. Bloody knuckles…shredded water hose…water spewing from the house…job well done.

The water pressure is extremely high. I bet you can hear the washer filling up from across the street…it sounds like the Titanic from the inside. No matter how slowly we turn on any sink, the water comes hauling ass out of the faucet at 500mph hitting the sink and then spraying right up in our face. We need a damn poncho just to brush our teeth. The master bathroom shower is a small box. For the first 6 minutes I nearly drown while being sprayed up against the wall with what feels like my brother’s pressure washer. The only chance of survival is to feel around for the door, throw it open, hang my head out while gasping for air, cough up the water blown in my lungs, clear the gallons of water from my eyeballs, give myself a pep talk, and get back in there. At this point, there will only be about 3 minutes of hot water left. It’s now time to make choices…shave both armpits and 1 leg…shave both legs from the knees down excluding ankles…shave 1 full leg including ankle…forget shaving all together, that fur coat will keep me warm at night. I never make the hot water time limit and end up screaming like I just saw a clown hiding in the bushes. So refreshing.

In the midst of all this, Will got a bacterial infection on his eyeball from something in the house and couldn’t see…at all…for a few days. I told him to gouge those things out of his head and wear eye patches. I got a phone call from the bank letting me know that someone got my card info and went on a Walmart shopping spree in North Carolina. Why me…never mind.

It’s been a crazy summer but we still made some amazing memories. My last baby has decided to start walking at 9 months old…something I’m definitely not ready for.
I am so excited to say that we break ground on our new house next week!

The day before we move out of this house I’m making several large vats of spaghetti sauce and on the way to the table…

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Published by momderella

I'm a mom to 3 girls ages 3 and under, a business owner, and a wife to a guy that I still think is super hot 13 years later. There is never a dull moment...or a quiet one...and not a single day goes as planned. I need a drink.
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Jessica, I want to say, that even though your stories are entertaining, I am so sorry for everything you’ve gone through. You are absolutely amazing and have a strength that most people dream of having. I seriously don’t know how you do and keep on smiling. Shame on that realtor for putting y’all through this and taking advantage of y’all knowing what all you’ve had to go through. There’s a special place in Hell for folks like that. And a meth house?!? He knew y’all had kids, so why? WHY? He’s either the dumbest s.o.b. on the planet or he’s just greedy. I’m hoping things have finally started getting better for you. Keep your head up! ☺

Hey! Thanks for reading and I’m glad I could make you laugh. Some people are just jerks and only care about a dollar. The framing on our new house is going up. We get more excited every day to get back to our “home” turf.

I'm a mom to 3 girls ages 3 and under, a business owner, and a wife to a guy that I still think is super hot 13 years later. There is never a dull moment...or a quiet one...and not a single day goes as planned. I need a drink.